The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 155: New Orders

Chapter 155: New Orders

Back on Earth, I’d rarely, if ever been able to afford to eat consistently, much less for pleasure. Here at Western University, I’d been too timid to dare ask for food and relied on the university kitchens, where I received a slave’s portion, consisting of hard bread, thin broth, and occasionally, if the manager generally liked me, a scrawny scrap of jerky. The simple meals I’d shared with the others in my party on the road as we stopped at inns were a luxury, not to mention the food I obtained during feasts.

Soltair and Trithe sat in silence as I explained my circumstances, occasionally glancing at each other to confirm they were both hearing the same thing. Once I finished, Trithe shook her head.

"Unbelievable. I knew you were a tad ignorant, but to think we’re here in a proper city and you haven’t gone out once..." She trailed off, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Trithe," Soltair, giving her a hard look.

She blinked, and her friendly smile returned. "On second thought, it’s not a big deal, really."

Despite her comforting words, I lowered my head.

"E-Elise offered to visit some places like that before, but her student allowance is so small I didn’t want to impose," I stammered, twisting a curl of hair between my fingers.

"No need to get defensive," Soltair chided gently, "Trithe didn’t mean it like that. And just so you know, everything is given to us heroes for free. You can show up to any shop, and they’ll be more than happy to help."

"Even to someone like me?"

He rolled his eyes. "That’s how it is for us heroes, and you’re a hero, right?"

His words were earnest and logical, but I couldn’t accept them. If being a hero gave you rights and privileges, then why was I a slave? Why had I been ’mistaken’ as a cultist and tortured for weeks? Why was I forced to endure the hatred and reviling of others based on unjust circumstances? When I walked by, mothers clutched their children’s hands, and shopkeepers refused to meet my eyes. Assuming they’d change the moment I posed as a customer looking for free handouts was simply ludicrous.

As much as I wished to explain that, I couldn’t. Soltair and Trithe felt so kind and warm today, and I couldn’t bring myself to spoil the mood further. The fragrant scents of the prepared meal had been teasing my senses for some time now, and my stomach growled. Soltair and Trithe looked at me, faces splitting into wide smiles.

"How can you argue after that?" Soltair laughed, pushing the plate forward. "Go on. You clearly want to."

"Well, maybe just one," I said, blushing furiously.

But that was setting an impossible standard. The following moments were a blur, filled with an incredible explosion of sensations and tastes I’d all but forgotten. Surrounded by the friendly faces of my companions, I was, for a time, able to forget the darkness looming in my past and future and live in the light of the present.

When the meal came to a close, Soltair pushed his empty plate away and cleared his throat. "Now then, let’s talk about our plans. Fyren hasn’t returned, so we can assume he either perished fighting against the demonkin or has moved on to follow another phase of his secret mission. He said his goal was to train us, after all, and I’d say we’ve improved. I can’t wait to beat the rest of those guys up at the next tournament."

"He’s not dead," I said, staring at my hands bunched up in my lap. But where was he? Why did he abandon me?

Trithe nodded, her smile feeling slightly patronizing. "It’s certainly better to think that. But regardless, we’ll have to move on without him."

"Right. As I was saying, the messenger said two sixth-level gates opened up on the northern continent. Alex is there, but he’s unable to challenge something of that strength right now, so they want us to help him. Slivera was in charge of the nearest teleport point, and with her death, the church was sending another ninth-level mage. They should be here tomorrow evening, so be ready to go by then."

"I thought the meeting was this afternoon, though?" I asked.

Soltair laughed, gesturing out the window. "It’s already evening! You seemed so tired after your ordeal, I decided to let you sleep through it. Don’t worry, one of the professors announced what happened to you to everyone and issued a formal apology on behalf of the city."

"What do you mean by told everyone?" I asked, feeling my stomach twist.

"Oh, just about how you were accidentally mistaken for a cultist and imprisoned for a few weeks. The description was a little graphic, but I guess they were trying to be transparent."

I groaned, dropping my head in my hands. And I had thought my reputation couldn’t get worse.

"Don’t look so gloomy," Soltair said, "I have more good news than just that. The church said they were aware of your condition and are sending a Divine Artifact with the mage to help stabilize some of the damage."

I frowned, fidgeting with the hem of my skirt. "But why would they do that?"

He shrugged. "Who knows, but probably because of the gates. They seem pretty afraid of some sixth-level gates."

"Then again, the only gate we’ve closed was fourth level, and we nearly died," Trithe muttered.

Soltair winced, but his hands tightened into fists. "That was a long time ago, and we literally just defeated a seventh-level curse demon. I doubt a sixth-level one will pose much of a threat, even if it’s a boss monster. Besides, both you and I, Trithe, are nearing the eighth level. Perhaps after this next fight, we’ll be able to break through."

A shiver ran through my body, and I looked down at my hands, which trembled gently in fear. I wasn’t anxious about the gates, as I completely agreed with Soltair. The demon we had fought was no ordinary demon or even gate boss. It was a demon lord’s avatar, which, in the hierarchy of demons, was weaker only than the demon lord itself.

No, my fears fell on the church. The gods had sent an angel for me, so why would they suddenly offer a Divine Artifact for me? Based on everything the church would have been able to see, my worth as a hero was very low. I found it extremely unlikely anyone had emphasized my role in quelling the cursed demon, which meant their knowledge was limited to my participation in the first gate we cleared, where I simply played a supportive role. With proper scouting and information, a situation where I would be essential was unlikely, at best.

At the very least, they hadn’t discovered my betrayal to the demon lord during the battle. Otherwise, they would be fully justified in executing me immediately. Regardless of the games the church splayed, I was convinced that was their endgame.

Burdened by too many thoughts, I excused myself and fled to the library. The dry tranquility of the air, the rasp of paper beneath my fingers, and the frequent presence of Elise made it one of the few places I’d ever found peace. Unfortunately, Elise hadn’t arrived yet, likely attending classes or helping with the cleanup effort, but the solitude wasn’t unwelcome.

In the wake of Slivera’s death, the library was a mess. Her presence sustained many of the protective enchantments and antitheft measures, leaving the structure vulnerable. Currently, the library was almost abandoned, with only a few students, professors, and librarians attending to their own matters.

I wandered through the shelves of Fate Spells, occasionally reaching out to touch one of the ancient bindings. I had learned nearly all the first and second-circle spells, although they were mostly useless to the current me. Up until this point, my efforts had been split between learning Mana Storm and broadening my runic vocabulary. That information was useless to me now, as I was unable to see the flow of mana, but I didn’t intend to stop learning. Whether by the Divine Artifact or my own natural healing, I remained hopeful.

I had to recover. Beyond the constant pain of my shattered soul, there was an emptiness so profound I frequently found myself crying without knowing why. The comforting, seductive warmth of mana had become so familiar I felt lost and alone without it. So, even if my hope was born in fear, I couldn’t allow myself to give up.

Looking around and finding myself alone, I slipped over to the seventh-circle section and quickly browsed through the tomes. Finding the one I wanted, I hurriedly stuffed it in my spatial satchel. The powerful enchantments sealing such items were currently disabled with Slivera’s death, giving me a brief window of opportunity. There would be no such chances to learn magic in the future I foresaw, so even if I burned with guilt, I refused to allow it slip away.

Moving quickly, I slipped through the lengths of shelves, taking several more predetermined spellbooks. Fate, Life, Water, even Neutral magic, all spells I hoped would be useful in the future.

As I came to the eighth-circle shelves, I hesitated. The spells here were placed under extra safeguards, and considering there were only a handful, their absence would certainly be noticed. Reluctantly, I turned away. It was too much of a risk. Even if it slowed my progress toward’s ninth level and potentially breaking the Sun God’s curse, I couldn’t afford to lose the other, more timely and practical spells. As I lowered my satchel, an unexpected voice sounded behind me.

"Oh, hey, Xiviyah!"